


HIT;

by IsThatHarry



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassins & Hitmen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsThatHarry/pseuds/IsThatHarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HIT | . b.u</p><p>Baby, I'm a hitman. I'll hit you harder.</p><p>Brendon Urie</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Playlist;_

 

_fly me to the moon // frank sinatra_

_house of memories // panic! at the disco_

_twin skeletons - remix // fall out boy_

_dirty laundry // blackbear_

_drugstore perfume // gerard way_

_born to die // lana del rey_

_ms jackson // panic! at the disco_

_company // drake_

_#icanteven // the neighbourhood_

_drive // halsey_

_thnks fr th mmrs // fall out boy_

_bloodstream // transviolet_

_fairly local // twenty one pilots_

_laura palmer // bastille_

_afraid // palisades_


	2. P R O L O U G E;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also little AN;
> 
> So I will try be as accurate as possible in this fic, I don't know much about America or Vegas specifically but I'm researching stuff and I'll be accurate as possible although I will change some things slightly. Also only real difference is I made bden a bit younger.

_Take a breath. One two three,_

 

_He breaths in and out, lights a cigarette. This is routine, his second nature, he knows it so well. He lines up the rifle._

_Three,_

_Two,_

_One,_

_'I'm sorry sweetheart'_


	3. i. T H I S  I S  M Y  L I F E;

_Rise and shine,_

 

_The sun is rising and peaking through the tatty curtains of a crummy old Vegas motel window. The desert heat can already be felt, sweat sticks to the body of the man lay naked in the broken bed._

_He wakes. Squeezes his eyes open and shut a few times. Sitting up, slides a hand through his dark coloured hair. A bottle of whiskey sits on the bedside counter._

_'Fuck' he says to himself. Sipping the whiskey from the bottle. The clock on the yellow stained wall tells him it's seven thirty am. He has become used to waking up at godawful hours even after with little amount of sleep, in the year he's been doing this job._

_Next he checks under the pillow, his hands feel the cool touch of a model 39 smith a wesson. He smiles, patting the body twice, before sliding out the weapon. He checks the rounds. seven. Nice._

_/I never miss/ he thinks to himself._

_He gets up from the bed, his clothes are scattered haphazardly all over the cracked floor; he picks up a black pair of boxers first, sliding them on._

_'I really need to stop drinking on the job' he says, stopping in the middle of the room, his head is throbbing. He sips the whiskey again. He puts on the rest of his clothes._

_He slides the model 39 into the back of his black jeans, checks to make sure it is secure before gathering what little 'personal' items he has with him._

_That's the key, he's learnt with this job, in the just over a year he's been doing it, don't carry to much baggage with you, that counts for both emotional and physical. It only wears you down. It's the most important rule, well perhaps aside from, don't get caught and **do not fuck up**._

_A phone beeps, it's coming from the suit jacket he has currently left lying on the bed. He walks over, pulling it out. It's a throw away phone, non traceable. Another rule; do not leave a trace. He picks it up._

_'Bogart'_

_He grits his teeth, he hates that fucking code name, 'What do you want you son of a bitch?'_

_'Don't get snarky with me you little cock' the voice on the other end snaps._

_'Yes boss' he teases._

_'What the fuck did I just say?'_

_'Okay, I'm done now, how can I help you this fine sweaty morning' He says, sarcasm replaced by seriousness, or as much seriousness he can fein._

_'How did you get on in Henderson?'_

_'Taken care off'_

_'Well done Bogart' He sounds impressed and /Bogart/ can't help but feel just a little pleased with himself._

_'Do I ever let you down' He says, throwing back yet another mouthful of whiskey. He licks his lips._

_'Not as of yet, so let's keep it that way, and I want you back asap you here?'_

_'I'll be home within the hour' he confirms, 'need me to pick anything up on the way home honey?'_

_'Don't be an arse, just get your arse back here'_

_'Okay, bye, love you, mwah'_

_He hears a moan and what sounds like the word /jackass/ before the line cuts dead._

_He takes one last look around the motel room before he leaves to check out. Throws the now empty bottle of whiskey into a trash bin in the corner of the room._

_He checks to make sure he has left no trace of himself. He has never been here. He's just a ghost through the walls of this place. Hardly anyone has seen him here, the owner will see so many faces that in half a day he will forget his face, and the walls are not alive to talk._

_He shuts the door behind himself._

 

 

⌧

 

 

_Its so hot. The desert heat can fully be felt in the car. The roof is down, his only hope of salvation is the hope that the speed of the car will create some form of a breeze as he drives._

_Currently he sits behind the wheel of sky blue 1953 buick skylark, driving down Interstate 251. The white leather seat sticks to him and his clothes, the stirring wheel is sweaty beneath his tense palms. The pistol lays in the glovebox, just within reach, just out of sight._

_Sinatra is on the radio and he sings along._

_'Come fly with me, come fly with me, let's fly lets fly away,,,' he sings in a voice that mimicks Sinatra's iconic tone._

_The sun is blinding and he's doing his best to save his eyes and see the road, by wearing a pair of matte black Ray bans._

_After about thirty five minutes of driving, he pulls up and parks in the drive way of a huge house. The sun is even more intimidating on the outside of the car._

_The house is practically a mansion. The walls outside are an off white and the bottom and second story are lined with huge four pain Windows. There's a balcony in the centre of the second floor._

_He slides the gun out the glovebox, returns it to the back of his pants. He gets out of the car, making his way up the steps to the front door. He knocks twice, then crosses his arms across his chest._

_He has to wait for a few moments, and then he can hear someone on the other side of the door, unlocking it. The door opens and he is greeted by a small woman, she has dark hair and pretty green eyes, her lips part and she smiles friendly,_

_'Brendon' Her voice is cheery and light, pleased to see him. She opens her arms and he responds with a hug. 'He's in the back, just through the kitchen.'_

_'Thanks Delilah' he smiles, passing her and making his way through the large house, to get to the back.'_

_When he gets there, there are two men sat on sun chairs by a large pool, they've both got glasses of whiskey in their hands and are laughing and chatting._

_The larger of the two stands up when he notices Brendon. 'Urie' he exclaims patting the younger man on the back._

_'Butch' He smiles, dodging past him and grabbing a glass off the side, pouring himself a whiskey. He swigs it back._

_'Brendon, this is my very good friend Michael, Michael this is my top student Brendon. Brendon is like a son to me Michael.'_

_'Nice to meet you Brendon' the other man says standing up. He's extremely tall, at least 6'2. He's got blonde hair, and a Hollywood smile. Brendon can tell he spends most of his time in the gym._

_'Likewise' Brendon says, shaking Michaels hand._

_'That's a firm grip you've got there son' He says, flashing that Hollywood grin to its full potential._

_'Father always told me its all in the handshake', Michael laughs nodding his head._

_'Okay, let's get to business' Butch says. The three men all take a seat on one of the sun chairs. Butch slides a file on to the table. Brendon recognises it instantly. 'This,' butch says, 'is Brendon's file'_

_Michael picks up the file, opening it and reading through. Brendon sits watching him intently, holding his glass between his legs._

_Michael sits forward, looking Brendon straight in the eye,_

_'I've got a job for you'_


	4. ii. K I D ' S  G O T  G U T S;

_We all start somewhere,_

 

_It was a particularly hot day when Butch had found him, even for Las Vegas._

_It had started out normal, he was working in the diner as usual. It was empty that day. People came in and out, but no one really stayed. For the majority of the day there was no one. All except for one customer, a man. He sat alone in a booth, he had ordered pancakes and a coffee upon his arrival. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him. He appeared your average blue collar guy._

_Then a man came in. He was huge, way over six foot. Huge tattooed biceps. He went straight up to the counter._

_Brendon smiled, attempting to hide his intimidation, 'how can I help?' He asked, just as he did with every other customer. Except this wasn't just, any other customer._

_The guy leaned in real close, whispered, 'okay kid this is how it's gonna work, shit is about to go down and you're not gonna do anything stupid, comprenday?'_

_Brendon couldn't move his mouth to speak, instead he just nodded._

_Without any warning, the bodybuilder turned around, pulled some sort of hand gun from his pocket and shot Mr. Ordinary right in the back of the head._

_The young boy went slack jawed. The shooter turned back to him._

_'Co-operation appreciated kid'_

_He didn't know where the next words of his mouth came from. Especially considering what he had just witnessed, the man standing right In front of him do,_

_'What the actual fuck' he shouted, not really to sure where his confidence came from._

_'Best not ask questions' and just like that, without another word, gone, he had just turned around and walked away._

_Brendon found himself running after the man, he climbed into the passenger side of a black SUV._

_'You just shot a guy'_

_'Great observational skills kid, now get the fuck out of my car you little shit'_

_He had no idea why he was doing any of this._

_'You better cover me' He spat._

_'What the fuck did you just say to me? You do remember I have a gun in my pocket and as you just so expertly pointed out I shot a guy'_

_'You fucking heard me, you just shot a customer right in front of me, incase you haven't noticed I'm the only other person there, I am not going down because of you, you fucking I psycho'_

_It was safe to say the boy was freaking out._

_'Kid I'm fucking warning you, get the fuck out of my fucking car'_

_The boy narrowed his eyes, looked straight ahead at this crazy guy in front of him and then completely deadpan, he uttered one word, 'no'_

_'That's it you stubborn son of a bitch'_

_He doesn't know what he expected to happen next, to be pushed out of the car, to be shot?. Instead, crazy guy just started to drive._

_His adrenalin was failing now and he just felt fear._

_'Oh my god, where are you taking me, are you gonna drive me out to the desert and kill me?'_

_'Word of advice kid, shut the fuck up'_

_He listened._

 

_They drove for about half an hour, he dared not speak, he didn't know what this guy was capable of, after a while they pulled into the drive way of a large house. He'd never seen anything like it before._

_He was walked into the house, through the large hallway, into the kitchen and out of some patio doors._

_'Sit down you little shit' The huge guy said, and Brendon did as he was told without hesitation. 'I need to know you're not gonna grass on me'_

_He froze for a moment before forcing himself to speak, 'I ain't going to prison'_

_'You're not going to prison'_

_'Well if you ain't and I ain't who is?'_

_'No one' The tough guy said, grabbing a bottle of whiskey off the table and pouring himself a glass, 'drink?'_

_'Look I'm not gonna grass on you, and umm no thanks'_

_He passed him a drink anyway, 'good now you can drink your drink and bye bye'_

_'What did he do?' Brendon asked, biting his lip._

_'Nothing. Not to me anyway' The large man shrugged._

_'So why did you shoot him in the back of the head?' He asked, failing to understand the reasoning behind shooting someone in the head in broad daylight on a Tuesday if they hadn't done anything to you._

_'You've heard enough. Time to go'_

_'No.' He said grounded ' I want answers'_

_The guy stopped for a moment in thought, he stood back up from the chair he had taken seat on, 'you're ballsy kid I'll give you that'_

_'Thanks,,, I think' The young one said. The reality of this was so crazy. Just an hour ago he was working his Tuesday 1 till 8 shift and now he was sat in some crazy mobster guys backyard drinking whiskey._

_They were then interrupted by a youngish woman. She walked out of the patio doors and over them. She's easily beautiful, with dark brown hair and pretty eyes. She's got a young face with rosy red cheeks. She smiles when she sees the large man._

_'Delilah' he shouts, pulling her into a bear hug and kissing her forehead. Brendon smiles, the scene is quite endearing given the circumstance._

_'And who might you be?' She smiles, looking down at Brendon._

_'I'm Brendon' He says. Brendon Ur,,,'_

_The man cuts him off, 'ahh'_

_'I'm Brendon.' He corrects 'just Brendon' the lady chuckles and Brendon smiles, he feels relaxed by her._

_'Well welcome to our home just Brendon, I'll leave you both to it' And with that she walks back inside._

_'Time to go' the man says again, clapping his huge hands together._

_'You're a hitman aren't you?' The boy swallowed. 'People pay you to kill people for them right?'_

_'How'd you figure that out Einstein?'_

_'I saw a movie once, I just kinda yeah'_

_The man moved over to a juke box pushed against the side of the house. The sun was getting lower now, there was a cool breeze and more of a shade. The blue desert sky was cloudless. The man pressed play._

_Feeling good by Sammy Davis Jr. Began to play._

_'Nice' Brendon said. Finally taking a sip of his whiskey. 'Kid,,,' The man said looking towards the boy. 'I have a feeling you and I are going to get on.'_


	5. iii. A M  I  A N N O Y I N G  Y O U;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, there is smut at the end of this chapter

_Perfect strangers,_

 

_'Any questions?' Michael asked._

_Brendon shook his head, 'nope I think you covered it'_

_He has discovered within the last ten minutes, that Michael is the most fucked up person on this planet, but a job is a job, and he must comply, there is no room for sentimentality in this business after all._

_'Let me run over this one last time' Michael nods. 'You want me' Brendon points to himself, 'to off your wife, I'm sorry,,, your pregnant wife' he corrects himself, 'because,,, you think she might have cheated on you?' His emphasis is on the word /think/ and Michael does not seem to sense to distaste the younger boy now has for him._

_'Thats right' The slimy arsehole sat across from him says._

_'Got it.' Brendon grimaces._

_Michael hands him a brown file, 'this is all you'll need to know'_

_Butch makes his presence known again, 'Michael is going to pay us half now and half when the job is done'_

_Brendon nods._

_As part of being hired by Butch, they had settled on a deal of twenty five percent. Butch gets twenty five percent of whatever, Brendon makes. It's a fair deal, generous, he could have made them split fifties._

_'So I'll be paying $25'000 now, and another 25'000 when you've completed the job' Michael said._

_'That's $50,000' Brendon said. He was expecting twelve and a half thousand now and twelve and a half when the job was done. His usual hits were around twenty five thousand, sometimes he'd allow a drop of five grand._

_'It is. You are taking out two people remember?'_

_Brendon suddenly felt sick._

_A job is a job he reminded himself._

 

⌧

 

_Brendon found himself sitting in a small run down bar just, off of the highway. One of those crummy places, beaten down wooden shacks, that are usually home to only two types of people; hookers and drunks._

_To look at him, the debonair boy sticks out like a sore thumb in this place. Dressed in a dark blue suit, he is not one of the usual inhabitants of this bar._

_A group of old man, the greasy biker type, have been eyeing him up. They had watched as he entered. Eyes following him to his seat on the stool at the bar, and had continued to watch him still._

_He instinctively feels for the 37 in the inside pocket of his blazer. A reminder to himself that he is in control of whatever shit show might go down._

_He has a whiskey sat on the bar counter in front of him. His fifth, to be accurate._

_His eyes scan over the brown file. His gaze keeps returning to the small picture in the right hand corner, attached to the file with a paper clip. She was gorgeous. Michaels wife. She had blonde hair, stunning blue eyes and the most amazing red lips he had ever seen. A beauty mark just above her lip caught his eye. He liked little details like that._

_He takes a large swig of whiskey. Looking into the bottom of the now glass. Empty._

_'Bartender' He calls, 'another'_

_A young girl stands in front of him, her hair reaching just below her chin, a vibrant orange colour. She had soulful brown eyes. He was lost in them._

_Women were beautiful. All women were beautiful. Short women, tall women, thin women, heavy women. Pretty women, feminine women butch women. Any woman. All women. Brendon Urie found beauty in all women. He loved women, both sincerely and in a way that to most would be considered quite disrespectful. He was not sorry._

_'That's your sixth one' She said, with an English accent, gesturing to his empty glass._

_His ears pricked up._

_'Please English, I'm begging here' His brown eyes, widened like a puppy dog._

_The pretty barmaid smirked, she leant onto to the bar, arms crossed, 'you can have one more pretty boy' she said softly, almost a whisper, 'on one condition'_

_'Anything for you doll' he winked._

_'Don't ever fucking call me 'English' again'_

_He sat back in surprise. Fiesty, he thought to himself._

_And so he decided to stay longer than he planned. He was fascinated by this girl. He had decided to have some fun, he figured he deserves it, before the real work started, **tomorrow.**_

_'Bartender' He called, for what must have been the fiftieth time that day._

_She turned to face him._

_Rolling her eyes as she did so, a scowl playing on her face. Annoyance was her most dominant emotion. 'What?'_

_'I was just going to ask, if there are any motels close by?'_

_She sighed, 'there is actually'_

_'Great' he said, gesturing for her to give the details,,, 'where then?'_

_'Just around the back, my dad owns the place actually'_

_'Great.'_

_'Isn't it just' she said, rolling her eyes._

_'I get the feeling you don't like me very much'_

 

⌧

 

_'Meet me round back' she had said 'after my shift'_

_He thought she was joking. There's no chance, he had thought to himself. Still he had gone. Just to see if she would show up._

_There she was. Orange hair, dimmer in the dark lights of the alley._

_'I wouldn't take you for that kind' He said, smirking._

_'What kind?' She asked, raising an eyebrow._

_'The type to do it in the back of an alley' He said, moving closer, kissing her ear lobe._

_He felt her shift her weight. He heard her breathe hitch as he took her by surprise._

_'Not here' she replied, pulling him by the hand._

_After a couple of minutes walking, they were at a motel, stood in front of the door of one of the no doubt crappy rooms. Fucking Vegas._

_Brendon pushed the pretty barmaid against the door, kissing her hard. She twisted her arm awkwardly, unlocking the door and managing to open it. They slid inside together, still very much connected at the lips, both of the kissing and moaning._

_He had her pushed against the inside of the door now. His hands wildly exploring her body._

_'Fuck' she moaned beneath his weight. And if he wasn't growing hard before, he was now._

_He grabbed her top, pulling it up over her head. He opened his eyes, marvelling at his newly found view. He left soft kisses, and gentle grazes down her neck and onto her breast._

_Her hands went for his belt, undoing it frantically, then unzipping his trousers with just as much speed and eagerness._

_She broke away from his lips. 'I don't even know your name'_

_'You don't need to,' he said Kissing her again, picking her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist._

_Next he lays her down on the bed, taking off her tight fitting jeans. He notes the lace underwear, a nice choice. He must remember to tell her if he gets the chance before he leaves._

_He begins by kissing her thighs. She moans, and it's bittersweet to his ears. He slides off her panties next. Slowly he begins kissing her heat, his tongue slowly flicking over her. Her moans get deeper, and she grows wetter and wetter for him._

_She can't contain herself. She's never been made to feel this way before._

_'Fuck' she moans again,_

_'Princess this is just the beginning' This makes her melt back into the mattress, arching her back as one of his fingers slides inside of her._

_'Fuck please' she begs._

_'Since you asked so nicely' He adds another finger, she moans louder still, as his fingers slide in and out of her, quicker each time._

_'Fuck me' it's more of a demand than begging this time._

_'Someone is very eager, aren't you babygirl?' He asks, with a wicked smile._

_'Please' She begs, he's in control again._

_'Good girl'_

_He slides his trousers further down. Moves up to her, so his face is millimetres from hers. He plants another harsh kiss on her soft lips, before sliding himself inside of her._

_He begins thrusting, slowly at first, faster with each thrust. She's moaning, gasping all sorts of profanities. Her fingers grabbing tightly at his coffee coloured hair._

_She's close now, he can tell, and so is he. It won't take much._

_'Come for me darling' He whispers in her ear._

_In less than seconds, she loses control. She comes, riding out her high and in turn so does he._

 

_Soon she is sound asleep. Her head lay on his bare chest, he plays with her hair, strokes her naked back as he smokes a cigarette._

_'You were sweet' he says into the still night air, the smoke leave his mouth and dances in the air. The room is dark, apart from the neon lights of the motel sign peaking through the shabby threadbare curtains. He can hear the faint noise of cars on the highway in the distance, the buzzing of the neon light, in the car park outside._

_'If it was different, we could have really known each other.'_

_She turns over._


End file.
